next
June 24, 2014 § Leave a comment
I can’t wait for tomorrow
the next hour, the next second
and to scale mountains and look down
i can’t wait for leaping through the air
into shimmering waters and floating
next to the sun’s reflection
i can’t wait for the sun to set
then rise once more
and carry with it even more meaning
i can’t wait for spinning
it’s my favorite thing to do
dancing with souls and closing my eyes
i can’t wait for new songs
and hearing the old ones a thousand more times
and shouting out every single rhyme
i can’t wait for the mystery
that never seems to end
and the complexity that lies in everything
such is life
June 24, 2014 § Leave a comment
do you know the feeling?
like the entire forest is filled
with the strum of heartbeats
ten thousand souls alive
and your skin can feel their hum
like the call of a something far away
that speaks of the familiar
hearts that can’t stay away
and the glow of possibility
that lingers whenever we touch
i can’t describe it
the sound of a chorus in open air
the joy of running, tearing through space
and watching the horizon forever unravel
just out of your reach, but always close
will we ever know the feeling
ever truly let ourselves be
where we really want to be
pause
June 20, 2014 § 2 Comments
beneath a star glazed sky
we waited
constantly, methodically
despite the purpose
in spite of cold currents
and cards, face down
we searched for storms
and found that stars
were brighter, when lighting
up our hands
held together
by the gravitational pull
of our perfect pause
our storm was patient
and it was everything
end of the day
June 18, 2014 § Leave a comment
if there was ever a greater feeling
than thinking about absolutely nothing
and staring up at a spinning fan
spilling icy air across your face
after collapsing theatrically
onto a pillowy queen size bed
after ripping off constricting clothes
and putting on sweats and a shirt that’s too big
after pushing your way persistently and slowly
across crowded asphalt roads
after staring at a computer screen
for eight to ten hours,
then somebody better tell me right now
what it is
the spiteful haiku
June 18, 2014 § 2 Comments
it’s harder than it
seems, to write a haiku that’s
syntactically clear …and syllabically correct
nonstop
June 18, 2014 § Leave a comment
like a train
running
without end
seemingly
churning
across states
careening
through
passing hours
searching
for wasteful
meaning
and seeing
life beyond
a horizon
running
north to south
and then
south to north
head in the sky
June 17, 2014 § 4 Comments
i often wonder
about stars in the sky
and i wonder
if you do the same
what a lovely thought
two heads in the air
floating away
from where they both came
the man on 7th street
June 3, 2014 § 2 Comments
a mournful saxophone,
just one. its noise like a sermon
echoing above drunken yells
and tires treading. over the constant hum
of street lights and broken voices,
night after night, he plays. making loneliness
cry out into a crowded street of half-hearted
listeners, who sometimes toss him a smile
or a dollar, or two and then shuffle heels
across the concrete walk to catch their friends,
yelling about the a taxi. bar food. a lost wallet. what time it is.
and the man remains, alone and still,
sans his dancing fingers and heaving chest
loyally blowing lonely life into his instrument
filling the crowded air with ups and downs,
a mournful jazz hymn, showering
notes onto an unsuspecting crowd.
they yell about life,
but they may never actually stop to listen to it.
the foundation of belief
June 2, 2014 § Leave a comment
doubt lingers
forever in the caverns
of minds,
the corners of outstretched arms,
the tips of tongues,
it rests idly, but never silently
and when it pushes most fiercely
it’s easy to fall prey to its weight
and forget the meaning of all
that surrounds you
it’s doubt that holds a mind captive
and keeps it present,
near the ground
but doubt seeks attention most
when its surroundings
are magnificent, and it’s presence
opens up my eyes
and calls me to push it away
and like a wave of sleep
I will never give in to
it makes me ache to believe.
And I believe,
that much more.
The Effulgent Ballad
June 2, 2014 § Leave a comment
The night before
we parted ways,
I lay on my side
the world singing soft carols,
a luminous and constant hymn.
Or maybe it was just you.
A glowing beacon stands
tall and fir green,
growing out of the mahogany wood beneath.
It wouldn’t belong at another time or place,
like we don’t belong in this sweeping valley
engulfed in a veil of night.
But of course it’s here,
and so are we.
Your voice, still pressed to my damp ear,
comes in choppy blurs,
like over a short wave radio.
It breaks and breaks and breaks–
the lights are everywhere,
but especially in the memories of you, or us?
They come in scorching rays. Bright blissful rays
that hurt. We don’t belong,
but here we are.
My eyelids fall in a watery glaze
that convolutes the shining scene
and with each blink the light bends
and the fiery kaleidoscope of reds and golds
morphs. First a mournful face,
then a spinning carousel,
a pulsing, burning, beaming, starburst,
a lonely sailboat in an aqueous field.
The scent of luminosity; of pine.
The lights hanging and crossing make your voice
a dizzying spell.
It chants, radiating
words that fall and hurt
and break. The mournful face tries to smile
and wish the world goodnight.
“Listen,” you say.
But the light is all I hear.
from Sun Dance 2012
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